I've heard of a land far beyond the blue,
A place where we can go if to God we will stand true;
I'm looking for that city where we'll be free from sin,
I'm longing for my home up in Heaven.

Where the milk and honey flows - in Heaven,
Where the tree of life grows - in Heaven;
Where we'll walk on the streets of gold,
To live up there with the saints of old;
Where the half has never been told up in Heaven.

It's hard to imagine a life without some pain,
No sorrow or sickness even death will have no reign;
Now won't we have a good time when our new life begins,
These things can only happen up in Heaven.

Where the milk and honey flows - in Heaven,
Where the tree of life grows - in Heaven;
Where we'll walk on the streets of gold,
To live up there with the saints of old;
Where the half has never been told up in Heaven.

Where we'll walk on the streets of gold,
To live up there with the saints of old;
Where the half has never been told up in Heaven.